


why won't you stay

by musicofthespheres



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Angst, F/M, Non-graphic depictions of childbirth, Three Year Gap, bulma's pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-14 20:18:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13015371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicofthespheres/pseuds/musicofthespheres
Summary: they come together, they fall apart. she has to deal with the consequences without him.





	why won't you stay

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyCressa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyCressa/gifts).



> A huge thank you to LadyCressa for helping me write some of the scenes in this. I had a blast with you in the google doc learning about pregnancy/child-birth/everything before and after!
> 
> Our own Dr. Ishi was featured on a small scale in this story. Credit for this OC goes to LadyCressa as well -- she and I are building our own little headcanon universe within the canon of DBZ. Her stories focus on GoChi, and mine on VegeBul. 
> 
> Anyway, without further ado...

Bulma was more attached than she wanted to admit. The fact that this gruff, angsty prince of a dead race took time out of his precious training to spend the night in her bed made her feel all sorts of things inside.  
Pride, accomplishment — she was more than a little smug the second time he’d shown up at her door, dripping wet from the shower with only a towel covering his modesty and a dark look in his eyes. 

It wasn’t a nightly thing by any means. Sometimes they went weeks without even seeing each other. After all, he told her more than once that he was here to train, not make friends. 

_Or fall in love_ , which was the unspoken understanding they both shared.

But in the back of her mind, Bulma knew they had something special. Or at least she thought they did. 

When she discovered that their connection had become deeper than she imagined it would, she was overcome with nervous excitement. And when her little secret became too apparent to hide from him any longer, she thought that maybe they could have an honest-to-Kami conversation about it. They could sit down and chat like real adults. 

But apparently that was too much to ask. 

She’d expected trepidation, fear, a confused swirl of emotions. They might even fight. But then they’d end the evening in her bed, sweating and panting under the covers like they always did after an intense verbal battle.

She had not expected his quiet, unadulterated rage. 

The moment following the confession, the glass he was holding shattered with the force of his grip. When he stood, his ki crackled and spat like an inferno. There was pure hatred in his eyes when he growled, “That bastard child is no offspring of mine.”

Bulma flinched at his words, but reached out to him, pleading with him to stay. 

But he took off, leaving a charred pit in the stone tile of the balcony and a raw hole in her heart. He left her alone with her admission and the torrent of tears streaming down her face. 

Bulma called after him, but to no avail. The brilliant light of his ki faded into the distance and he was gone. She slumped back in her chair, almost numb but not quite, and sniffled.  
This had been a mistake. 

Days passed before he returned to the compound. She could only tell he was back by the mess of dishes in the kitchen when she raided the fridge for a midnight snack, or the stack of dirty clothes outside of his room, waiting to be laundered. 

Their next encounter went poorly. He walked past her like she didn’t exist, and the only acknowledgement of her presence came when he glanced down at her swollen belly and sneered. 

=====

As the months crept by, Bulma found it harder and harder to conceal her condition from her friends and colleagues. Vegeta was never anywhere to be found, always off training in some remote location. He only returned to demand that she build him a gravity room like the one Kakarot trained in on his way to Namek. 

Bulma’s parents knew about the child, of course. She kept nothing from them. Nonetheless, she kept herself sequestered away in her lab, cursing herself and the training bots lying neglected on her workbench. She took out her frustrations on the innocent robots, ripping them apart for scrap. 

Day in and day out, she worked late into the night trying to improve on the gravity room’s design. Though her father checked in on her daily, nobody else was allowed in the lab. She was on the verge of a breakthrough and was not to be disturbed at all costs. 

She was five months pregnant when she finally perfected the design and got to work upgrading the rudimentary structure out in her yard.

And it was at that time she admitted maybe she needed help.

=====

Bulma landed the hovercraft carefully in the yard of a little house on Mt. Paozu. She approached the front door and took a deep breath, preparing to find herself face-to-face with the only person on earth who had given birth to a half-Saiyan child. 

Chichi opened the door and dropped the dishtowel in her hand, gaping at her friend. Then she ushered Bulma inside and sat her at the table before putting on a pot of tea. 

The moment her butt made contact with the chair at the kitchen table, Bulma burst into tears. She knew Chichi would judge her for her baby’s parentage, but right now she just needed to release the pent-up emotions to some _one_ instead of some _thing_.

Chichi sat next to her and rubbed her back soothingly. Her eyebrows did knit together with concern when Bulma told her the whole story, but she did her best to be understanding. The men of the house were not home so Chichi told Bulma to stay as long as she needed. 

And when Bulma had finally cried herself out, she was right there with another cup of tea. 

“You did get yourself tangled up with a delinquent,” Chichi sighed, shaking her head and boiling more water. “But I’m sorry it turned out like this for you. It won’t be easy, but you can handle this. You’re strong.” 

Bulma hiccupped and nodded, taking the tea with shaky hands. “Thank you, Chichi,” she sniffed and smiled despite herself. “Of all the bad decisions I’ve made in my life, this one might be the worst.”

“If it’s any consolation,” Chichi offered, “Having a baby is a wonderful experience and I’ll be happy to help out in any way I can.” 

They talked at length about what it would mean to bear a half-Saiyan child, and when Bulma left, she felt far better-equipped for what was to come. She asked Chichi to keep the news to herself, and tell not even Goku so Bulma could announce it when she was ready.

=====

Finding a doctor to assist in the birth quietly was no small matter. The Briefs family name carried a lot of weight, but also with it the temptation to sell the juicy details to any tabloid that was paying. 

Bulma could just imagine the headlines. “Capsule Corp heiress gives birth to freak of nature.” 

Wouldn’t _that_ be nice. 

And it didn’t help that there were rumours swirling around the compound. She would walk into a room and the chatter would cease, and she knew they were talking about her. 

She finally found what she was looking for in a recommendation given by her mother.

Bulma had been lamenting about the lack of privacy afforded to wealthy heiresses these days when Panchy stood abruptly and told her daughter to wait where she was. Moments later, she returned to the room, flipping through an index of business cards as she sat down again. 

Bulma sipped her tea and watched as her mother meticulously flipped each card with a perfectly manicured fingernail. 

Finally, Panchy alighted upon the one she was looking for and plucked it from among its comrades. “Here you go, dear. Dr. Ishi is a trusted family friend and an excellent OB/GYN. And her staff are very discreet.” 

Bulma took the card. It looked well-worn, like her mother had kept it for a long time. “I’ll give her office a call tomorrow,” she said, the tension from her shoulders releasing. She hadn’t even known it was there.  
What a relief to be able to confide in her mom, even if she hadn’t made time to do so for the last several weeks. 

She was _way_ overdue to be seen by a doctor. 

=====

Thoughts of him took second place in her mind as a whirlwind of doctor’s appointments, prenatal classes, and work occupied all of her time. Bulma sat on a rolling chair in the middle of her lab with one hand on her belly — ready to pop any day now — and the other holding a greasy cloth.  
The father of her child was of no more consequence to her, and she’d turned him into more of a concept, anyway. Their trysts had lasted for a shorter time than this pregnancy had spanned. She’d severed all emotion when it came to the idea of him, and now he was merely another problem for her overworked mind to deal with another day. 

Bulma rubbed her lower stomach as a mild pain rippled through her muscles. It gripped her for a few long seconds before subsiding.  
“Is that you, baby?” Bulma asked, looking down fondly at the enormous beach ball she’d become. As she went about her work in the lab, little pains came and went, but that was nothing out of the ordinary. The doctor had warned her of false alarms.  
Then the pains intensified. She glanced at the clock the first time the pain felt like it lanced through her muscles. She stood and stretched her back, wondering if her posture had been poor for too long a period of time. Her lower stomach retaliated to the movement and she doubled over against the lab counter, squeezing her eyes shut from the pain. 

Visions of a certain Saiyan prince floated into view as she counted down, breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth in intervals of seven-in-four-out like she’d been taught. 

Vegeta. 

That _bastard_. Leaving her to deal with all the consequences of their, ahem, _union_. To HFIL with the Androids. There was going to be nothing left of him once she’d had her turn!

The hours passed as Bulma tried her best to be in denial that this was happening today, right now, before she was emotionally ready, how was she supposed to raise a child as a single mother? This is _not_ what she had envisioned for her future family.  
And then her thighs were soaking wet and previously unshed tears spilled over and tracked down her cheeks. 

Bulma covered her face with her hands and sobbed. She didn’t love him, but she wanted him _here_ , damn it! 

Finally, she had the wherewithal to buzz the intercom to summon her secretary. “It’s time,” she said, attempting to keep her voice as even as possible despite the fact that she was barely keeping it together.

The next hours were a blur. Bulma remembered a lot of crying, a lot of pacing, a lot of having to pee _really_ bad _really_ often, and finally the blissful numbness of the epidural as Dr. Ishi and various nurses spoke to her in soothing tones. 

Panchy arrived, more out-of-breath than Bulma had ever seen her. She regained her composure quickly and took the spot in the seat next to Bulma’s bed, grasping her daughter’s hand. She bore Bulma’s adrenaline-fuelled hand-squeezing like a champion, flexing her sore hand delicately after each strenuous push. 

Finally, after hours and a lot of blood, sweat, and tears, Dr. Ishi presented Bulma’s child to her. 

He was a healthy 9lbs 8oz and had purple hair that spiked upward just like his father’s.  
And he had the Saiyan tail to match. 

=====

At night, when Trunks was asleep, Bulma stood by his crib and smiled. Usually, the moonlight shining in through the window softly illuminated his tiny face. The quick rise and fall of his chest warmed her heart and on more than one occasion she caught an errant tear falling down her cheek. 

“You’re going to grow up to be big and strong, just like your daddy,” she whispered. “But your heart will be ten times as kind.” 

The months passed and Trunks grew, always in the presence of a loving family and never going without. Bulma wished that she felt the same about herself. As time wore on, her heart ached with longing for Vegeta. Even though he hurt her, he was a part of the child she held in her arms. 

And he didn’t even care to see him. 

=====

Vegeta finally passed by them in the hallway one evening as Bulma was on her way to make dinner. She knew he’d been avoiding her -- avoiding _them_ \-- and that this was no accident.

He stopped in his tracks and frowned down at the child. “ _Half-breed bastard._ ” 

Bulma’s heart turned to ice. She knew then that there was no hope for him.

Later that night, a great rumbling shook the entire compound and jolted Bulma out of a restless sleep. Sitting upright and clutching her hand over her pounding heart, her eyes widened as she realized what was happening. Trunks cried in his crib but for once, Bulma had more important things to tend to. 

She tugged on a robe as she raced for the door, the quick tempo of her bare feet slapping the floor reverberating down the hall but drowned out by the rumbling of the house. Finally, she made it outside, but the spaceship that Vegeta had commandeered was nothing but a bright point of light high in the sky. The _boom_ as it broke the sound barrier reverberated through the complex and rattled her bones.

The rocket boosters burned themselves out and fell to Earth and Bulma fell to her knees in despair. The spaceship had left the atmosphere. 

He was gone.

=====

The time came for the Androids to begin their rampage of Earth. They arrived right on schedule — and so did the boy from the future.  
Bulma gaped when she saw the colour of his hair, the deep crease of his eyebrows — could it be?  
He looked just like Vegeta.  
And her son.  
A chill ran through her entire body as she put it all together. 

Vegeta returned and Bulma put on a false bravado when future Trunks confirmed her suspicions to be true. 

=====

Goku was gone. The world felt emptier now. 

Bulma sat at her window with Trunks in her lap. She bounced her knee absently, smiling sadly as he giggled and shrieked. 

A reflection caught her attention and she looked back to see Vegeta in her bedroom doorway. 

He stood, arms crossed, and waited for her to acknowledge him before losing patience and stepping into the room. “Woman,” he stated. He was careful to keep his tone neutral. 

She turned to him then, silently fuming that he dare to approach her now. Trunks went quiet in her lap and she did not stand to greet her baby’s father. 

Vegeta perched awkwardly at the edge of her bed. 

“The boy looks healthy,” he commented. 

“He is.” 

“The birth… were there complications?” 

Bulma refused to make eye contact with him. “You’d know there weren’t if you were there to find out,” she muttered under her breath. 

Vegeta sniffed with derision and ignored the jab. “The boy will need to be trained. He is weak.” 

Bulma looked up at him then and stood, finally looking him in the eye as she leaned into his personal space to loom over him. “You,” she hissed, jabbing his the armour on his chest. “You said this was no child of yours. You _left_ me to deal with the pain of loss, of heartbreak, of bearing this child that _you_ helped create.” 

Trunks went silent as Bulma continued her diatribe, his lip quivering at the sudden unpleasant tension in the room. 

“You have no right to come in here and tell me that _my child is weak when _my_ child has barely known his father. You can find somewhere else to live and train if you’re not happy with the way I’ve raised him, you entitled, royal pain in the ass!” _

_Trunks let out a low wail that built into an ear-splitting crescendo. He clung to his mother’s chest and hid his face from Vegeta, causing Bulma to turn away from the Saiyan to shield the child in her arms from his presence._

_“Shh, Trunks, it’s okay. Mommy’s here,” she cooed down to him soothingly, her tone a stark contrast to the one she’d used moments earlier._

_Vegeta stood._

_Bulma glanced over her shoulder at him to see his warring emotions battling for dominance in his expression. “Just go,” she sighed. “It’s the only thing you’re good at, anyway.”_

_But Vegeta stayed._

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, friends! Your comments are always welcome!!


End file.
